Sweet Talk
by CinnyMon
Summary: For Hitchcock-Scarlet. Title inspired by the song Sweet Talk by The Killers. Chris is caught trying to save Claire from Rockford Island. He's at the mercy of Alfred and Wesker, who both think he's up to more than he says he is. Wesker x Chris angst smut


For Hitchcock-Scarlet, who requested a Wesker x Chris piece (Yay! Showstopper distraction!) That had lots and lots of Chris torture and Chris angst. A personal favorite request of mine – also on a side note, I've noticed that people only request Resident Evil things from me and nothing else. Does that mean that I'm only good in Resident Evil writings?

Oh well. That's probably just me being dramatic…**:D**

Disclaimer: I do not own Alfred Ashford, Albert Wesker, Chris Redfield, Claire Redfield, Alexia Ashford, or Rockford Island. They are all property of Capcom.

_I have no idea why, but I wrote this while listening to the Yu-Gi-Oh! Theme song on loop…_O.o

--

"You say you know him?" Alfred Ashford squeaked, arching his eyebrows in a snobbish manner.

"Indeed. This little pest has been a thorn in my side since the beginning of my time." Albert Wesker glared through his glasses at his incapacitated captive. " His sister is one in the same, and I suggest that you eliminate her, before she becomes your utter downfall."

"Downfall?" Alfred shrieked, appalled. "Alexia's plan is foolproof! This girl you speak of, I met her in my mansion halls, she seems to be of no threat!"

"But that is where you're wrong. She defeated your Bandersnatches, did she not?" Wesker said, not mentioning that she had defeated many of the one armed, yellow creatures since then.

"Yes, but she had help!" Alfred protested. "That red-haired boy. He helped her!"

"True, but by him helping her, you now have another amount of trouble on your island." He spoke in a bored tone. Conversing with this cross dressing idiot was beginning to wear on Wesker's nerves. He really gave a full meaning to 'dumb blonde', no matter how smart he acted.

"You…You!" Alfred spluttered, at a loss. He slammed the butt of his wooden rifle into the ground, "I will KILL her, AND the boy, AND I won't need your –"

"SHUT. UP."

The holding cell grew quiet, and the two blondes ceasing their talking.

"Ah, Christopher, you're awake." Wesker smirked. "Good morning to you too."

The brunette rolled his neck in a circle until it gave a satisfactory sort of crack, then he let it fall limp. "Yeah, yeah." He muttered.

"So this is the great Christopher Redfield? You seem more like all bark and no bite." Alfred snorted and gave an annoying, high-pitched, laugh.

Chris looked at Albert in disbelief, " You probably don't see much of the ladies, do you?" he asked, dead serious. This rewarded Chris with a swift smash to the nose with the gun that the male Ashford was holding.

"Okay," Chris wrinkled his nose, "Ouch."

"You dare insult me? The great Alfred Ashford?!"

"Uh…is it bad if I've never heard of you?" Chris said while trying to shake the blood from his nose off of his face.

"Never heard of –"

"Lets quit with the foreplay." Wesker said, interrupting Alfred.

"Oh, but it was getting to the good part, scum." Chris hissed.

"Sticks and stones, dear Chris." The ex-STARS captain breathed, walking out from behind the chair that Chris was securely fastened to with an iron chain. It was bound around his wrists and ankles, making the brunette completely immobile.

"Now," Alfred spoke softly, "What are you doing on MY island?"

"What any responsible big brother would be doing at this moment; rescuing his baby sister." Chris explained.

"What is she doing here?" Alfred pressed.

"I don't know. Why the hell did you capture her? Lets start from there."

"ALL LIES!" Alfred screamed, making Chris flinch. "Nobody captured her! She just…arrived! Unwelcome and unwanted! She's destroying everything that I've worked my entire life to perfect!"

"Ah, she does me proud." Chris snickered.

Growling an inaudible curse word, Alfred kicked at Chris's chair, but seeing as though the blonde was much lighter than Chris, nothing happened. Wesker then took charge.

"Allow me," he said, picking up the chair by the bottom left leg. Chris made a noise and suddenly, he found his face inches from the cement floor where the steel legs of the chair once resided. Wesker carelessly dropped the chair, and the man's face collided with the cold floor.

"That's…gonna leave a…mark…" Chris hissed. "Why do you _bastards_…always go for the face? Jesus, the one point that girls actually pay attention to…"

"Speaking of girls, how's Miss Valentine? And how are Barry and Rebecca fairing? Oh, and who's the other…ah…Vickers, Brad Vickers, how's he? Good I presume? Still the same worthless coward that abandoned us at the Spencer Estate?" Wesker wondered aloud.

"Brad's dead." Chris spat, a new hatred burning bright in his eyes. "He was killed trying to save Jill and a UBCS worker, Carlos."

"How uncharacteristically chivalrous of him." The spectacled man mused. "And the others?"

"All fine, no thanks to you, you snake eyed piece of shit!" Chris swore, and wiggled so that the chair was no longer on top of him, but to the side. He gave Wesker a sloppy, one-sided glare.

"You are in a dire need to expand your vocabulary." Alfred tittered and gave another high-pitched laugh. Chris rolled his eyes.

"_You_ are in dire need to get some testosterone in your life." Chris shot back. Alfred gritted his teeth, then…he smiled. A creepy, inhumane smile, that suddenly made Chris's bloods run cold.

"If you're unreceptive for telling us you're _true _purpose on this island-"

"I told you, I'm here for my sister!" Chris interjected.

"Then I will just get Alexia." Alfred continued as if he just wasn't cut off. "And believe me, she's _much_ worse than I am." With that, Alfred Ashford smirked and quickly left the room, his clicking footsteps fading away into the distance.

"Finally," Wesker sighed, "Free of that incompetent…"

"So it seems that we share one thing in common," Chris murmured. Wesker grabbed the sideways chair and heaved it upwards, so that Chris now had all four of the chair's legs on the ground.

"And the Ashford and I share one thing in common as well – why are you here?" Wesker asked. Chris groaned.

"Wow, evil and dumb, what a combination." He said sarcastically, "Do you listen? I'm here for my sister."

"I see," Wesker said quietly. The two stayed in silence before Wesker roughly, and unexpectedly, backhanded the brunette, sending him flying into a wall. The chair collided into the cement and an audible snap was heard, signaling that the chair had broken on impact. The pieces of the furniture rained down on the marksman, the right side of his face burning like he had just stuck his head into an oven.

"Ah!" he whimpered, curling his chin as tightly into his chest as he could and bunching up his shoulders so that he looked similar to a turtle emerging from its shell. "You psychotic…God damn…Ah!"

Wesker flashed the injured man a catlike smile. "You knew I was here, correct?"

Chris spat on the floor, it being a mixture of blood and saliva, and said loudly, " You're batshit nuts."

Wesker stalked over to the bound man and gingerly stepped on his throat, twisting his body into a position that was nearly breaking both of his arms, "Let me repeat, you knew I was here, correct?"

He applied a small amount of pressure, which to Chris, felt like he was being suffocated by an elephant. Chris made no response, save for wheezing, and Wesker pushed a little more weight onto the man's throat. Anymore and the ex-captain would break his neck.

"Y-yes…" he choked out.

Wesker eased up a bit, "Now, was that so hard, Christopher?"

"B-bitch…" Chris yelled.

"Since you knew that I was here, what were you planning to do with that information? Hmm? Kill me? Overthrow Umbrella?" Wesker shrugged, not leaving his post of Chris's neck.

"How 'bout all of the above?" He growled.

"Always the apple pie, red, white, and blue way, isn't it, Chris? You can never, _ever_," he accented this word by stepping on Chris's neck with brutal strength, "Just let me have my way? Can you?"

He stepped off of the appendage, and allowed Chris those few precious moments of air as he walked in circles.

"You know," Wesker said, whether to Chris or he, the brunette wasn't sure, "You really are the thorn in my side. The monkey wrench in my operation. The damned variable in my _perfect_ equation."

Choosing not to say anything, Chris just continued to gasp, like a fish out of water, for breath. Taking in another gulp of air, Chris roared, "You're a monster!"

Wesker began to chuckle, which entered a crescendo into a full-blown laugh. He faced the chained man and ripped the sunglasses off of his face. "You have no idea."

Chris's eyes widened, "You…you're not…"

"Human? No, boy, I'm far from it." The ex-captain's golden eyes became rimmed with red, then orange. "Being human entitles being imperfect. I am far from such. I _am_ perfection…I am power! Dare I say it, I am God."

"You're insane!"

"Quite." Wesker agreed. It was far easier just to give the dog a bone than to argue.

"And now that we've crossed that bridge-"

"Where are the others?" Wesker snapped.

"What?" Chris was taken aback.

"Where. Are. The. Others? Your ragtag group of misfit freedom fighter?" the blonde elaborated.

"Me tell you? I'd rather be one of your failed experiments." Chris snarled.

"That can be arranged." Wesker said indifferently, inwardly laughing as Chris visibly paled. "But I'd much rather you suffer by watching your friends die. Then you can be one of my lab rats. So tell me you righteous whore, were are they?"

"I'll never tell you, you asshole."

"I have ways of persuasion, you do know." Wesker threatened. "Ways that would even make a do-gooder like you, talk."

"I'd like you to do your best." Chris smirked.

"Just remember, dear Christopher, you asked for it."

"And when you're dead, I'll be saying that to your tombstone." Chris gloated.

Wesker, with a speed that seemed to defy the natural laws of physics, crossed the room and had a solid grip on Chris's collar. "Scared?" the blonde asked.

"You wish."

"You will be." Wesker reassured. The man unsheathed his combat knife from its hip holster and diagonally slit Chris's regulation R.P.D.S.T.A.R.S. shirt into two separate pieces. It fell off, hanging limply onto his still bound wrists, and it was then that Chris realized what his former Captain was trying to do.

"No!" he cried out, thrashing wildly in the monster's grip. "You twofaced monster!"

"Names hurt, dear Chris, but not as bad as how I'm going to hurt you." Wesker said coolly, ripping off the excess fabric that clung to the brunette's wrists. Chris kicked blindly at the man, once or twice landing a hit.

Angered by the fighting, Wesker slammed his captive's head against the brick wall. "Defiance is _not _tolerated."

The smaller man saw stars. His stomach lurched and the taste of blood infiltrated his mouth. Numbly, he shook his head, "Screw…you," he whispered.

At that, Wesker slammed Chris's head into the wall again, making some of the blood escape his mouth, rolling down onto his chin. Something of the predator variety awakened at the sight of blood, and the urge to drink the red was astronomical. There was no way he could hide his covetousness. He licked the other man's chin, and then swept him into a passionate, angry, kiss.

Chris drew his knees up, placing his feet on the wall, and tried his hardest to push Wesker's weight off of his body. The struggling, however, was proving to be futile. The blonde seemed to be out of Chris's league, both in strength and in cunningness. But giving up was not an option. Not when Claire was still running around, trapped in the midst of all the zombie and monster brouhaha. The kiss ended when Wesker remembered that Chris needed air, unlike himself.

"Feel like telling?" Wesker whispered huskily. Chris shook his head hard and fast, desperately trying to shake the growing problem from in between his legs. He was _so _not attracted to this…beast. This was same beast that had murdered all of his friends! This was the very _sexy_ beast who…oh dear God, who was he fooling. He had a thing for his ex-captain. He always had, and probably, throughout all of the right and wrong, still would.

"N-never." He writhed in distress as Wesker dipped a hand into his camouflage pants. In one icy fluid motion, the blonde Tyrant had Chris begging, no, _pleading _for more. No words were spoken but the brunette's body language could more than suffice.

"I'll kill you, I'll kill you," Chris chanted the mantra over and over again until he could think of nothing else. He quickly came into Wesker's hand, who simply wiped the fluid onto his pant leg and continued onwards.

"Do any names or places ring a bell? Do you recall anything?" the former captain said a bit louder.

"All I can remember is me kicking your ass."

"Funny, because it seems that its yet to happen." Wesker returned.

"What are you gaining? Money? Power? World domination?" Chris shouted.

"Actually, a lot more than that." Wesker let go of Chris's neck, watching him fall limp to the floor. In his post climax, he couldn't move far on weak legs. He couldn't move far even if he wasn't in a post climactic stage because Wesker was just much too fast. "I'm gaining a new world order. One without suffering, or death, or famine…do you see what groundbreaking accomplishments you're prohibiting? A perfect world! Nothing is free, so what's a few deaths, in order to save countless lives? Lives of children, Chris, and of adults, and elders. We could rise the extinct! Give life to those who deserve a second chance! You and your narrow-minded ways are only allowing you to see what's here and now. What about what's then?

Do we remain ignorant to our planet's impending doom? To it's countless inhabitants and what they are going to loose? This is the only way to save them, is by teaching them, by instructing them. Thinking for them. All they have to do is the easy part. We, Umbrella, we do all of the rest. Feed you. Clothe you. Govern you."

"So, a brainwashed dictatorship?" Chris shot.

Wesker frowned, "I'd expect such an answer from you. You're too blind to see."

"You're just nuts. Let the people decide if they are going to live or die, don't do it for them. Ever heard of the butterfly effect? If you make humans live longer than God intended to, then you'll mess up all of the natural order and balance. You'll screw the whole planet!"

Wesker advanced on the grounded man like a hellhound. "I'm going to erase that though from you, _permanently._ I'm going to make you see, whether you want to or not, Christopher."

"Don't. Don't do this." Chris shook his head and tried to inch away from the man. "There's still a chance for you to be saved. Just listen, you don't want to do this."

"I believe I do." Wesker said coldly, lifting Chris up by his belt loops. With one foul swoop, the knife that Wesker had used to cut his shirt off, had made its way to the Alpha member's pants and sheered them off, leaving him only boxer clad. With no belt loops, Wesker fisted the other man's hair and tugged harshly on it.

"Stop!" Chris screamed, squirming. It seemed to be the only thing that he was good at in this situation – wiggling, squirming, and writhing.

Wesker paused. "Do you intend on telling me the location of the other S.T.A.R.S. members?"

"Fuck you." Chris growled.

"Then I kindly will." He simpered, dropping the brunette in the middle of the cold, stone cell. Chris's head hit the floor with a dull thump, and for a minute, he lost consciousness again. It soon returned though when he felt a cool breeze on his exposed rear. Wesker had cut off his boxers.

"Last chance, Christopher. Were are they?"

Chris actually let out a bark of laughter, "Far away from you, plotting your demise!"

"Oh, well, I was just wondering where to send the body of their comrade when I was finished. You know, just being friendly." Wesker said, unzipping the zipper to his pants.

"You can kill me," Chris grunted, "But you can never kill our spirit. There will always be someone who's ready to stop you!"

"Let them come," Wesker closed in on the chained man, "I'll send them all home in body bags."

The blond flipped his prisoner effortlessly and sat on his upper body, knocking the wind out of him. He reached backwards and stroked Chris's cock, making him unintentionally moan.

"You like that, don't you?"

"Bastard…I don't…stop…"

"Quit lying to yourself, Chris, you know you want this." Wesker purred. Taking off his gloves, the spectacled man shoved the leather inside of Chris's mouth like a makeshift gag.

"Wouldn't want the Ashford's aware to our little game, would we?" he mocked. Sliding down, Wesker stroked the gagged man's length once more before positioning himself at Chris's opening. Without any bout of forewarning, Wesker shoved himself inside of the marksman, and buried himself to the very hilt.

Even through the gag, Chris's screams were still loud. The man arched his back and struggled helplessly against his captor, in some attempt to free his body. No such luck was rewarded though.

"Don't try to break free," Wesker whispered, pulling himself out before slamming his whole body back in. "You'll only end up hurting yourself more. And God knows, you'll serve as a fun toy for later."

Fighting tears, Chris tried to make his body go lax. For once his double-crossing ex-captain was right, if he fought, he'd end up tearing himself. The brunette bit down hard on the leather gloves in his mouth to keep from making any more noises. If he made a noise of approval, then he would be a hypocrite for everything that he stood for. However, if he made a noise of disapproval, then Wesker could possibly stop, and as much as he wanted to deny it, Chris actually liked the actions that were being taken on him.

"Moan for me," Wesker commanded, speeding up. He brushed up against Chris's prostate and that sent the Alpha team member into a lust filled fit. He was actually writhing under his captain…in pleasure. He needed to make sure, that when he saw the others again, that they would put a bullet into his brain.

The Tyrant grabbed Chris's length and rubbed it once before it sent him over the edge. Chris came, and laid on the cool floor until, moments later, Wesker came hard inside of him. The pain was intense as Chris made a strangled, hoarse scream. His voice was practically gone from that.

Wesker pulled out, zipped his pants, and stood up, "Enjoyable?"

"Go to hell." Chris tried to say, but it came out more like, "Whoa wha fell."

"Ah, that's right, my gloves." The blonde ripped them out of Chris's mouth, grimacing as he threw them into a corner. "They'll need to be replaced."

"Go. To. Hell." Chris repeated.

"Only if I can take you with me." Wesker smirked sultrily.

"You're a filthy, psychotic, disgusting –"

"Just remember, you enjoyed it. Every minute." Wesker returned. He looked once more at his former teammate, flashed a wicked smile, then left.

As Wesker shut the door, Chris let loose some tears that he had been desperately trying to hold back. He really, _really_ hated himself now.

He hated it, because it was true. Every last word.

And he really did enjoy it.

**--**

**Sunnava' bitch – 10 pages… o3o**

**That was an amazing distraction from Showstopper, and I really applaud Hitchcock-Scarlet for putting up with all of my crap. Really. And for introducing me to Supernatural, it's an amazing show.**

**8D**

**P.S. Judrio, I found an old PM from you about a Wesker x Chris thing. Send me another message with whatever you want, and I'll do it!! **

REVIEW PEEZ.

REVIEWS MAKE THINGS LIKE THIS.

AND YOU LIKE THIS, DON'T YOU?

YOU EVEN LIKE THESE SEXY CAPITAL LETTERS.

OH YEAH, SO BADASS.

83


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